


Wrath of the Lion

by murdergatsby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adrenaline Highs, Because I Have Kids To Feed, Biting, Bottom Hannibal Mention, Bottom Will Mention too, Dr. Cordell Doemling Mention, First Kiss, Francis Dolarhyde mention - Freeform, Hannibal Takes Sexual Consent Very Seriously, M/M, Mild Marking Kink, Mild Painplay, Post-Murder Adrenaline Horniness, Post-The Wrath of the Lamb, Punishment, Sex-less Smut, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Will being inopportunely seductive, Will is a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6735217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/pseuds/murdergatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You know, Will. Neither of these injuries would have come to you, had you not been wasting your time watching me bleed.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrath of the Lion

**Author's Note:**

> This is another oldie from the depths of my computer. Wrote it the day after I watched TWOTL. I think I was coping. 
> 
> I'm sorry.

“My shoulders are fucked.” Will complained. His voice was caked with exhaustion and a humor similar to sarcasm. He extended his chest from his collar bones, as if he were moving wings, before laying back flat against the structure of the chair.

Hannibal kneeled in front of him, hands holding a damp and bloodied washcloth, some thread, and a needle. New blood still seeped from his side but he had the inconvenient inclination to care for Will first.

“You were lucky.” Hannibal said as he brushed his thumb gently over the clean and freshly stitched incision in Will’s cheek bone. The knife went in deep, piercing through the roof of his mouth as it sailed through the flesh and bone of his face. “I think I can save your teeth.”

Will laughed but he wasn’t sure why. The noise erupted from his belly nervously and wildly; it reminded him of a hard rain. Whatever the reason, Will didn’t care, because the sound brought a light to Hannibal’s face he’d only seen a handful of times. He hoped he would see it more in the future. Happiness was such a striking look on him.

“At least I’ll have that.” Will said, letting his head fall back against the chair with the rest of his body. He didn’t hurt much. Instead his muscles only felt stretched, tired. He imagined the pain would catch up to him eventually, but for the moment he just felt _good-_ Oddly good and almost comfortable with a lacerations as long as his index finger in both his face and right shoulder.

When Hannibal was finished tracing the shape of Will’s repaired cheek under the guise of checking his stitch-work, he let his hand float down the curve of his jaw, and his neck, all the way across Will’s bare chest until his fingertips met with the unmistakable bumps of torn flesh. The blood on Will’s chest was still present, but dry and dark. It had stuck Will’s shirt to him earlier and pulling it off had been an event achieved with a raspy scream. The sound echoed around Hannibal’s head even now, when all of his energy was being put into caretaking mode. It was an enchanting sound.

“You know, Will.” Hannibal began. He looked up from Will’s wound and back to where his face should be.

Will had rolled his head back, away from Hannibal, with his throat shown to the ceiling. He appeared to be lost in ecstasy while he was really only fighting his mind to stay conscious. At the sound of Hannibal’s voice, he rolled his gaze back. His eyes were half-lidded, and vibrant even in the low light of the room.

The corners of Hannibal’s mouth twitched up at the sight and stayed up, as he focused on his new intentions.

“Neither of these injuries would have come to you, had you not been wasting your time watching me bleed.” He said. He looked into Will’s expression like it was something of scholarly focus. 

Will, who previously wore a vacant-kind of bliss, frowned. He seemed surprised. He tried to move his eyes away as if to admit embarrassment for being caught, but Hannibal didn’t buy it. The look on Hannibal’s now-in-full-smirk face read clearly as _‘Yes, I noticed.’_

Hannibal leaned in closer, shifting his position so that he could comfortably touch his nose to Will’s if he so wanted. Then, he touched his nose to Will’s.

Will took in a short and shaky breath. Hannibal had never really been one to acknowledge or accept boundaries, and this didn’t often stop at those of the physical. This closeness they shared now, though, was overwhelming. Will could feel the heat of Hannibal’s lips on his own, and no matter where he took his eyes all he could see was back into Hannibal’s.

One of Hannibal’s hands moved and began rubbing small circles into the small of Will’s back, fitting between his body and the cushion of the chair, while the other securely held his injured shoulder in its place. Will was completely closed in but he felt far from trapped.

“Did you enjoy that, Will?” Hannibal asked.

Will couldn’t see it but he could _feel_ Hannibal part and lick his lips.

“Do you enjoy to watching me hurt?” Hannibal tilted his head to the side just enough to release Will from his ocular hypnosis.

It made Will want to pull for him; it drew him in further.  

“Do you like to watch me suffer?”

Will could feel Hannibal’s lips moving and what was already overwhelming reached for new levels of mental fatigue. Will closed the distance between their lips, which was received by Hannibal with a loud and prideful hum.

The kiss was long, firm, and hungry; both parties were so desperate to feel each other, to experience each other in this way. Hannibal almost lost what his original agenda had been to the feel of Will’s facial hair on his chin and cheeks.

_Almost._

Very gradually to Hannibal, and very suddenly to Will, Hannibal inserted his thumb into the slice in Will’s shoulder. He could feel Will’s meat build up to his knuckle as warm blood fled to the new things he was tearing open.

Will gasped away from the kiss, then growled into his mouth. "Hannibal..."

His eyes were shut and his teeth were grinding against each other in stress. Hannibal hooked his thumb and pulled, bringing Will’s chest down into his own. He put his head on Will’s shoulder and moved Will’s head to do the same to his. Will groaned and winced in accordance.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Hannibal hissed against his ear. His voice was sick with hazard and violence.

Will breathed heavily against him as his body tried to squirm from the pain. His chest rose and fell rapidly against Hannibal’s body, and Hannibal could feel the energy on Will’s flesh permeate through his own blood-soaked shirt in waves.

Hannibal turned and nuzzled his face into the curve of Will’s neck; an experience he had only recently been honored with, and an experience that had quickly become one of his new favorite things.

He smelled him and ran his lips against his skin. Blood was now rushing from Will’s shoulder again, dripping down his chest and collecting in spatters on the floor. The additional smell it provided made him more than intoxicating to Hannibal; _Will and death_ was a scent Hannibal wished he could bottle. 

Hannibal raised his face up to Will’s ear again, this time careful to place his lips against his ear lobe. He wanted Will to feel his words just as much as he heard them.

“You can’t waste time like that with so many variables in the room. It’s dangerous.” Hannibal said, lowering his voice to a whisper as if someone else would hear, purely because he wanted to know Will’s reaction to his statement being treated like a secret.

“There is plenty of time for my  _private_ suffering.”

Hannibal straightened his thumb out again but left it buried inside Will; it didn’t stop the pain, only moved it. Will turned his face into Hannibal’s neck and hissed against him, _for him._ He opened his mouth as if he were only gasping for air, but took the time to run the edges of his teeth along Hannibal’s skin. He turned his head until he could feel Hannibal’s throat beneath his bottom lip, then he bit.

It wasn’t hard or at all painful, but it was enough; it was enough to send Hannibal spiraling back to only hours ago when he had torn Francis Dolarhyde’s throat from him, and it was enough to take him back even further to when he had watched Will pull a chunk of flesh from Cordell Doemling’s cheek.

It was _enough_.

He felt Will’s mouth curve into a smile while still holding to him with his teeth; he knew fully well what he was doing. Will breathed against him- it was nearly a laugh. He pulled his mouth away from Hannibal’s skin for only a moment before kissing at the faint red marks his teeth had left behind, and Hannibal realized how ridged his body had become. He was far exceeding tense. His sense of self-control was dwindling and Will seemed to lack the ability to care. Making Hannibal feel on edge and risky was something Will adored.

Again, Hannibal crooked his finger inside the wound. This time Will yelped and Hannibal felt his body _finally_ collapse and give in fully to the punishment. For a moment Hannibal thought he could relax.

Through the gruff, desperate gasps Will made to work through his pain he was able to make one clear proposal in Hannibal’s direction: “Fuck me.”

Will pressed his forehead into Hannibal’s shoulder. His hand that wasn’t held down with agony swung forward and grabbed at Hannibal’s shirt, tugging on it in an attempt to pull him closer.

His choice of words didn’t come from an exclamation of pain- it was a very clear, very determined command. The intention was buried in the way he said it- the way it moved from his lips rather than slipping off his tongue.

In that moment, Hannibal wanted nothing more. He wanted nothing more than have Will ride him on the floor, or to ride him in this chair- to have them continue to psychologically as much as physically torture each other until they were both at their climax.

He wanted nothing more than to fuck Will while his thumb still locked in his shoulder like a handle.

Hannibal knew this was a game Will was playing, but he liked it. He wanted to be able to say “You think it would be that easy?” but he couldn’t, because it was.

Right now, though, he needed to leave this up to common colloquialism. He needed to leave this up to the blood loss. He needed to leave this up to the pain killers (that he hadn't yet been able to administer) and the adrenaline soaring through Will Graham’s body. Hannibal needed to blame Will’s actions on anything other than his free will because, right now wasn’t the time for this.

Hannibal accepted his defeat and pulled his thumb from Will’s now-even-more-so mangled shoulder. Will hardly made a sound. Hannibal propped him back up against the back of the couch and softly, almost shockingly so, traced Will’s shoulder again. He realigned the pieces of flesh so that they met to form a jagged line. It was much more uneven than it had been before, and he hoped that Will would remember that. He looked at the wound and planned his attack for repair, before looking back up at Will’s face and smiling.

“Let’s take care of this, first.”


End file.
